


Rugby Match (Non-Screenplay Version)

by superfluffycool



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superfluffycool/pseuds/superfluffycool
Summary: On Saturday (4/1/2017) Sam and Cait went to a rugby match in South Africa. They posed with a fan, snapped a selfie, and had a great time. What did they do afterwards? Maybe this.Nearly identical to "Rugby Match" but in non-screenplay format. I'd played around with the idea of writing a "normal" story but wasn't sure I was capable. Fate intervened when I accidentally posted a draft of it on Tumblr and it got some "likes". Why not keep going? So I did.





	

Caitriona was very hot. Aside from the obvious reason, the South African weather, she was also surrounded by several thousand rugby fans, and a few drinks into the afternoon. In a small corner of her brain, she acknowledged that she was anxious. Sam had snapped a selfie of the two of them to post online later. It was earlier in the match, before they’d started to sweat and turn red from the heat and shouting at the field. It would be captioned with something innocuous, but it had them looking very much like a couple. She often wanted to scream out “He’s mine!”. She knew Sam felt the same urge to publicly claim her. He was not normally rebellious, but he loved to thwart instructions and post pictures of them together and tweet sexual banter. Maybe one day they wouldn't have to hide or receive notes from CEOs scolding them about their behavior. Until then, matters were complicated. 

For now, being in the crook of his arm, feeling that warm, solid torso next to her calmed her a bit. 

“Another round?”

“Yes, darling. I’d love another.”

But, she probably shouldn’t have another. She hadn’t eaten much earlier because they had to rush to make the match. Sam was coming from a long workout and Cait had slept in before doing her own, much shorter workout. At the game, they’d had a few snacks, but nothing to really constitute a meal. Maybe when they got home they’d wip something up…

……………………………

Soon, the match was over, and a nearly full cup of beer remained in her hand. Sam’s was almost finished.

“Couldn’t stomach the last round, aye?”

“Oh, stuff it.”

She gulped down the entire cup without taking a breath, then threw it into the nearest trash bin.

Sam grinned, “Verra intemperate race, the Irish.”

Oh, how he loved that line from the book. He’d say it often and they’d both end up poking and tickling each other until they were told to stop or ended up fucking wherever they were. 

Something about the mix of testosterone on display, the alcohol, and the promise of that selfie going out in a few hours made her feel very powerful. Instead of a lighthearted poke in the ribs, she decided to clip her beloved Scot with her shoulder, rugby style.

He flew back, surprised, and into another rugby fan.

“We’re here to watch rugby, not play it.” There was a stern tone in his voice, but it masked something more playful. Dirty thoughts flooded her mind.

She leaned in close, “Of course. You can’t play rugby with two balls.”

She took that moment to squeeze his.

His eyes bugged. He always acted shocked when she did things like that in public, but she knew he liked it, too. He was such a good man–considerate, caring, loyal. How could she not want to corrupt him? Especially when he smelled of soap and fresh laundry.

“Och! You’re drunk!”

“No.”

He pulled her close so that she felt the rough linen of his shirt against her cheek, “You are…and you’ll be in very big trouble for it when we get back.”

We’ll see about that, she thought. Or maybe she’d said it? She stroked his face. That jaw line...his beauty was obvious, but sometimes it struck her anew like a knock in the head. They stood smiling at each other, alone in a crowd of people. She behaved herself, choosing to keep her fingers hanging from his pockets instead of returning them to the bulge behind his zipper.

…………………………………….

The cab ride home was ridiculous. She couldn’t stop laughing about something (nothing actually funny), and Sam tried to calm her before finally succumbing to his own fit of giddiness. Oh boy, she shouldn’t have had that last beer…everything felt as if it was both in slow motion and out of control. 

The elevator ride passed in a blur, and then they were in front of their door. Cait, with her small purse, had the keys. For no particular reason, she insisted on opening the door. Her motor skills were compromised, but she felt that surge of power again. She had plans. That match had gotten her thinking rough thoughts–she imagined tearing Sam’s clothes off and attacking every inch of his hard, muscular form with her mouth and nails. Bringing such a large and strong man to the brink and then pulling him back made her stomach clench. She loved when he cried out and whimpered, begged her to continue.

But why oh why was he fighting her? “Let me do it, mo chirdhe! Please!” 

Now, she wanted to keep the keys from him as an act of aggression. Before thinking too hard, she underhanded the keys down the hallway, which sent Sam scrambling after them.

God, he looked so good! His pants were snug enough that she could see the muscles of his legs tense as he lunged down the hallway. 

She sighed and leaned back against the door, “I’m gonna tackle you and pin you to the bed.”

Cait wasn’t sure what reaction she’d get, but she got one. Sam froze, bent over the keys and their eyes locked.

“Is that so?”

“Mmm Hmmm.”

She could barely walk straight or unlock a door. How was she going to manage an irritated, 6′3″ gym rat? She hadn’t thought this through.

Their eyes still locked, Sam started shuffling towards her with a glint of something in is eye. He moved as if he was exhausted. What was he playing at?

“You…”

He paused to yawn. “Yes?”

“…Scottish bastard. Get over here!”

“I’m trying…I’m verra tired from my workout this morning.”

“Liar", she spat.

He let out an even bigger, more dramatic yawn, “ Might crawl into bed and fall right to sleep.”

Ha! She wasn’t going to let him sleep until she was through with him, or he was through with her. Anything to satisfy the ache between her legs. She wouldn't mind being on the "losing" end this round. He continued with more tired flourishes about his back being sore and needing to rest. And he was still moving so...very...slowly.

“For fuck’s sake!” 

The mix of frustration and desire building in her pelvis erupted. She stomped (actually swayed in violent manner) over to him and dragged him to the door by his belt. He was laughing! And he wouldn’t give her the keys.

He kept them out of her reach by extending his arm straight up. She tugged and jumped but it was no use. They were pressed against each other and she could feel his erection. She soon found herself against the door frame, Sam’s forearm across her chest and his pelvis pushed against her own. He wanted to get inside as badly as she did and saw that he struggled with the key while trying to keep her under control. The door popped open, and she was forcefully taken past the threshold.

………………………

Sam’s POV

God how he loved Caitriona like this–-aggressive and antagonizing. It was a side he didn’t get to see often, but when he did, it reminded him how vivid and multi-faceted she was. It wasn’t his default nature to be dominating. He already commanded power by his size. Often, he felt the need to sweeten his interactions with new people to put them at ease. He enjoyed being overtaken by such a lithe, and graceful woman, but he also liked overpowering her with his physicality. If he was to full out dominate her in the bedroom (and really, it was only in the bedroom) it was usually by request–-unless, Cait was goading him on, like now. It was more fun when she lost her sense of restraint and dished it out, too. He knew his own strength well enough, but she did not. This made for an interesting dynamic during sex.

Right now, he was stirring her up. He pretended to be tired and sore–-too tired and sore to quench any lustful urges brought on by public crotch grabbing and her tight cotton t-shirt, but he was very turned on. Seeing her veer from giggling and giddy to insubordinate was arousing. He couldn’t wait to do some very bad things to her. 

Right now, she was fighting him for the keys. He kept them out of reach and savored her silly attempts to jump against him and pull them from his outstretched arm. Her breasts looked so good in that shirt! And they felt great too, skimming against his chest. He finally managed to stop her by holding her against the door frame and placing his forearm across her chest. He couldn't resists pressing his hips into her. He wanted her to know how hard he was.

She still tried to wriggle out of the hold, taking delight in his frustration. At that moment, with her long, thin frame she reminded him of a ferret. They were small creatures, but very feisty and difficult to hold against their will. But ferrets couldn't laugh, which is exactly what Caitriona was doing. Oh, God, let him open the door! Finally, the key turned in the lock and revealed their apartment. Before she got any other ideas, he grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her in. 

Too late. She would not be manhandled passively. Once inside, Caitriona pushed him against the closed door and slid to her knees before him. With more skill than she’d had with the keys, she undid his zipper and belt.

“Here? Not the bedroom?”, he panted. He was glad her sense of urgency matched his, but the comfort of their bedroom was only a few yards away.

Cait responded by taking his cock in her mouth. It was too much. He felt his balls tighten and his breath turn ragged. He wouldn’t be able contain his climax for long with her like this and her hands probing beneath his clothes.

Then she used her teeth. It wasn’t as she usually did–later in the act, but at the point of attack. He gasped from pleasure and, of course, pain. He leaned against the door and felt his hips thrust forward.

“Och, Caitriona!”

As delicious as this was, he was worried she’d get a little too liberal with the teeth in her current, drunken state and end up doing something that really hurt. He hoisted her up and tried to lift her, but she resisted. She moaned, upset that he’d taken her toy (his cock) away. Instead of carrying her like a romantic hero, one of her legs and one of her arms were splayed and she hung like a rag doll in protest. He was shuffling so he could keep his pants from falling around his ankles and dropping his beloved cargo. 

Once in the bedroom, he threw her onto the bed and stripped off his button-down.

She grinned at him,“Your back is feeling much better.”

“Not at all…yer awfully heavy.”

He knew that would piss her off. She roughly grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt. They attacked each other’s mouths like ravenous animals in the first kiss they’d had since that morning. There was a whirlwind of shirts and bottoms falling to the floor. He found himself struggling to kick free of his pants while Cait dug into his waist with her nails and tried to bite his clavicle.

“Cait! Stop! Only biting below the neck!”

“Nooooope.”

God, he wanted to shove his cock deep inside her! It was the only way to quell the rising tide of lust and frustration boiling under his skin. He managed to pin her arms down by the wrists and find the frame of the bed with one of his feet. He used it as leverage to finally push himself between her legs.

She arched her back and pulled him closer by wrapping those beautiful legs of hers around his waist. He kept still, tightening his grip on her wrists and groaned with pleasure.

Caitriona’s groan echoed his. She writhed a bit, adjusting to the intrusion. God, she looked so beautiful! Her face contorted with pleasure and her awesome boobs mere inches from his chest. He wanted to feast on her skin. He bent his head and kissed her hungrily, taking bites of her lip before traveling to her neck. Ah, he couldn't help himself. He sunk his teeth along that pale, elegant curve.

She gasped and kicked her legs, “You said ‘no biting above the neck.”

“Then stop me.” It came out as a taunt. She fought again, trying to sit up and return a few bites but she was outmatched by his strength. His grip on her wrists and the deep movements of his hips kept her pinned to the bed. He could tell they were both close--his thrusts got sloppy and her nipples hardened. 

He had enough breath to whisper “I win. Tell me that I won.”

Cait panted and looked him square in the eye, “Stuff it.”

He let go of her left wrist and slid his hand between them. His thumb pressed on the bundle of nerves just above her clit, “I WIN. Say it.”

Cait fell back, groaning and shuddering. But she wasn't done. She reached up with her free hand and grasped the hair on the back of his head. She pulled herself up and took a nice, hefty bite just above his collar bone.

“Oh, oh, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuuck!” Sam’s climax started and he pressed his forehead into Cait’s, surrendering to her. Her own climax started then. "Fuck, oh, fuck, fuck...!" There was a symphony of gasps and groans before Sam released his grip on her wrist and let his full weight collapse on her.

Their breathing slowed and Sam stroked her hair. “I did win.” 

Cait snorted “According to you.”

Sam smacked the side of her buttox, “That’s going to cost you.”

She stroked his hair and whispered into his ear “We’ll see about that.”

………………………………..

They rested for what felt like twenty minutes but was more like two hours. It was full dark when Caitriona’s empty stomach spurred her to get up. 

“I’m starving. I’m going to make us something.” As she rose and put on a clean t-shirt and cotton shorts he thought about what she would make. Omelettes with cheese sounded perfect. They were a shared favorite as a quick meal and would satisfy their neglected stomachs. Sam wasn’t picky and would undoubtedly eat whatever she made, but twice as much. 

Still, he’d been rough with her, and she was probably still woozy from the combination of heat and alcohol. “You feel up to it, mo leannan?” His eyebrows furrowed as he examined her up and down.

“Of course. We intemperate Irish recover very quickly.”

At that moment he was overcome with tenderness for her. What a woman! Since the day they’d met he’d not doubted that she was one-of-a-kind, “I love you.”

She stopped and bent to kiss him. They were gentle. That lusty, ravenous type of thing having been satisfied a few hours ago. “I love you, too.”

He got up and started to dress. Watching her exit, he called out after her, admiring her glorious legs “You didna manage to pin me to the bed.”

She leaned over the kitchen island to yell directly through the door, “I’ll get you next time, Samwise.”

With that, he fell back on to the bed with a sigh. He was the luckiest man in the world.

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> A few days ago a male journalist was called out for tweeting misogynistic statements about how date rape doesn't exist, and "good sex" looks like rape. It was disgusting and offensive. I'd started writing this piece before those tweets, but decided to use it to make a statement about how rough sex can clearly be consensual, playful, and HOT.


End file.
